Story:Kings of Strife/Part 8
Part Eight The soldier from Nneoh could never get used to the constant rocking of a boat. Slowly, Vik’s eyes opened as he awoke on his cot. His icy blue eyes looked around with a confused and dazed look before settling on a vaguely familiar being. The boy they stared at looked right back and adjusted his short, midnight blue hair upon meeting the eye contact. Hasey Troblum watched intently as Vik sat up from his bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It hadn’t taken long after Vik had commissioned a boat from Nures’ harbor and spent a night sharing a cabin with Hasey for the soldier to realize this boy was more than he could have bargained for. To say the least, the boy was unnerving. Odd. Implacable. Unnatural, at times. Vik never caught him getting a wink of sleep, and although the long boat ride had sent his stomach boiling and churning, the boy was completely unaffected by the sea’s turbulence. True to his word, Hasey seemed accustomed to the chill in the air that cut Vik to the bone. After leaving Mount Gulg, Vik had believed he would never have to wear a winter cloak and gloves again, but he was very wrong, and soon ended up wearing these materials all around the small barge the two had bought passage on. Hasey, however, went around in his baggy sweatpants and tight crop-top like shirt. The Rocky Bay, as the small smuggler ship had carved on the side of its hull, was barely more 30 feet long and only had a sparse handful of tanned men working as its crew. Vik could tell they were experienced and hardy when he saw them at one of Nures’ countless ports, but did not expect them to scalp most of his money away for the long trip ahead of them. True to their credit, the small ship cut through the small Nures Bay and down the Sandy Channel in only a few days, the abandoned shores of ruined Shimura ever visible on the western horizon until they passed the eastern-most tips of Galgria and started sailing south. It was in this turn of the navigation that even the crew members and the gold-toothed captain of the ship started to wear furs, as the air began to turn translucent and the far-off waters glistened with ice. Even so, Hasey was never once seen shivering. Vik had tried, multiple times, to get more than the memory of snow and his own name out of the boy, but each time he failed. Whatever mission he was on, Vik reasoned, had to have been of the utmost importance to imbue the blue haired youth with such secrecy. Still… That did not explain his odd habits in the slightest. It was disturbing that Vik was used to being watched as he slept now. With a yawn, the dark-skinned soldier sat up in bed and instinctively shivered. Not a moment went by without him wishing for the summer heat again. “You slept fitfully today,” Hasey said quietly as Vik stood and immediately wrapped his fur coat around himself. “It was cold.” “It’s only going to get colder. The captain says we’re getting close to the shores of North Norzaven.” “Cratys the Creator thought so too, until he died a cold death at sea searching for the Boundless Land of Ice. Some scholar he turned out to be,” Vik grumbled. Hasey’s thin lips curled into a smile. “You’re grumpy when you’re tired, I see. And educated.” It was almost more than Vik could bear not to glare at the pretentious boy and his banter. Truth be told, he was beginning to tire of this justice. Just when he thought he would give up, steal a rowboat, and swim back to Nneoh if he goddamned had to, Vik saw his father’s scowling face in the back of his mind… and he relented. Even in his thoughts, he bowed to the wishes of a broken man. The cranky soldier left his cramped cabin, the mysterious youth following behind at his heels. “Is it true, though? Are we close to land?” Vik bit his lip. They had been sailing for almost a week now, and that was a week too much. The bundled soldier on the run walked to the nearest railway of the ship and looked forward into the sapphire abyss in front of them. He could see fog leaving his mouth with every breath. The horizon was a uniform sapphire from a mix of ocean, mist, and drab sky. “Aye, and we’re even closer to payday,” growled a deep baritone voice from behind both of them. The captain of the Rocky Bay, a tall yet lanky Nneonian with a scar over one ear and an empty hole where the other should have been, wore flamboyant green robes and a blue sash. These clothes were typical of Nneonian sailors; they were cool and easy to move in, yet also kept heat out of the body. Today the captain also wore fur gloves and a scarf to keep himself warm. “I told you I’d pay you once we made it back to Nneoh,” Vik stated without looking in the captain’s direction. To have to stoop to such base and illegal levels of transportation upset the soldier, even if it was for a just cause. “Round trip fees. That’s how business is done.” “The disgraced second son speaks to me of how business is done!” laughed the captain. Of course the captain knew nothing of Vik’s lineage, but calling someone a “second son” was a well-known Nneonian insult. The bald captain’s front two gold teeth no longer shimmered in the mist, but they sparkled with obnoxious light in the sun. Vik ignored the obnoxious man’s jest, and the captain soon got tired of his own amusement. “North Norzaven looms. We will be there before sunset. It is pure ice there, all sea lions and frozen waters and abandoned hills. Nothing good awaits you there, Son of the Sun.” Vik chuckled. Now the captain spoke with a term of endearment; at the end of the day, Vik was filling his pockets, after all. “Nothing brings two Nneonians together like lies and hatred of the cold, I see. Unfortunately, my captain, this is not up to me. Hopefully our business will not keep us through the night.” He stole a glance to Hasey, who as of yet had been completely silent and staring at the direction in which the ship sailed. “Very well,” complied the captain. “But when dawn breaks, the Rocky Bay and her crew depart. We cannot survive in a land where the sun does not melt the snow and the only harbors are rocks.” ‘Very little can,’ Vik thought. Within his waist pouch, beneath his cloak and all his clothes, Vik could feel the Crystal radiating gentle heat. ***** “We’re leaving already, sir Crono?” Maria didn’t say a word to Silverius, not after the blond observer had fled and the subsequent battle had occurred, but he could practically feel her asking this very question. She kept silent, though, and simply followed him as he ran back towards the airship docks of Sumfate City. ‘Yes,’ Silverius wanted to say in response to her unspoken question. ‘I can’t afford to go to the Great Datalog anymore. I can’t afford to stay in this country anymore. I just can’t.’ He never wanted to return to Norzaven ever again. Now, to Silverius, it would always be the place where his best friends had died. No – that wasn’t quite right. Norzaven would always be the place where he had murdered his best friends. ‘I did what I had to do.’ That was all he could say, and yet that wasn’t enough to keep his heart from hurting. Now, his last ties to a life of righteousness had been cut. His father – dead. Captain Vinahkman, his second father – dead. Kerry, Soraya, and Sebastion, his comrades and best friends – dead. All by his own hand. ‘I did what I had to do to survive.’ But, was there a point to surviving when it meant killing his happiness and his dreams? Silverius had no answer and no more time to think about it. The airship dock was close; the crowds on the streets were starting to thicken with tourists, and tall vehicles of wood and metal started to take up space on the horizon. Silverius slowed his pace to a brisk walk and Maria took up pace beside him. He noticed her shivering and sniffing, but silent. Her eyes were red and puffy, like she had been crying silently. That hurt, seeing that she was in emotional pain. ‘I’m sorry that you had to see that,’ he wanted to say. ‘I’m sorry…’ There was so much he wanted to apologize for… but who was still around to listen? After a moment of walking through the crowds in Sumfate’s most populated district, Silverius found who he was looking for. There, in front of the gate leading to a small and inconspicuous airship, the blond observer stood in the same dark olive Serpent Society cloak. Nodding at Maria, Silverius walked through the crowd until he was face to face with the emotionless, shorter male. “We knew you would come,” the observer said, his nonchalant red eyes looking right into Silverius’ soul. The mercenary couldn’t help but feel irritation at the man in front of him. “You knew they were coming, didn’t you?” “We told you that you were wasting time. They were looking for you. They still are.” Silverius’ jaw tightened and his fists began to shake, but a pull on his sleeve grabbed his attention away from the agitating enigma. He looked down to see Maria holding onto his jacket’s sleeve, looking down at the ground but apparently aware of Silverius’ heightened emotion. With her influence, the mercenary took a deep breath and looked back to the observer. “And you can help us escape? You’ve got the answers I won’t find here in the Great Datalog?” The blond man nodded. “Correct. Your next destination is in Inusia, and your answers are with us. Complying is for the good of the Crystal, and the world.” Silverius shivered and looked over his shoulders, uncomfortable with how often the blond enigma was talking about otherwise clandestine information. ‘Not like I have much of a choice anymore.’ He grabbed onto Maria’s hand and looked down to the blond with a frown. “Alright. We’ll come with you. Let’s go.” “Good. The Crystal has chosen well.” With a hint of a victorious smile, the blond raised the hood of his long cloak and unlocked the gate leading to his airship’s gangplank. The ship was colored with accents of black and a similar dark olive, and was much smaller than the commercial airship Silverius and Maria had taken to get to Norzaven. It was sleek and much more modern in design, meant to be flown by a single person and carry small amounts of cargo or people. Airships of this kind took considerable skill and training to operate, and were fairly rare to find in any port. It was hard to believe that Silverius and Maria were being offered a ride in one for free – by a member of the Serpent Society, no less. ‘Is he a deserter, too? They’ll find him. They always find us deserters.’ Silverius couldn’t help but wonder the motivations of the odd blond man as he led Maria and the mercenary into his cramped ship. There were only three open spaces in the airship, not including the small upper deck; one was the bridge, decorated by an open window, a single seat, and walls packed by wires and displays; another was a bedroom with two cots and a toilet; the final was a fair-sized living room with two chairs, a table, and a window to the outside. Silverius dropped off his and Maria’s supplies in the bedroom, and Maria went straight to staring out the window in the common room. He wanted to talk to her before the journey back to Inusia concluded – but for right now, questions about their common benefactor was more important. And yet, as he walked past Maria towards the cockpit, she called his name. “Yes?” He responded. He didn’t look back at her, but could hear her turning to gaze at him; he couldn’t look back at her. Fear? Shame? Longing? No matter the reason, Silverius knew he would buckle if their eyes met. “Those people back there… You knew them, didn’t you?” He could hear her voice trembling, but still the mercenary kept his back to Maria. “I did. They were my best friends.” Maria held in a gasp and audibly shivered. “Then why, sir Crono… Why did you do that? Why did you kill them?” He lowered his head. “I told you I’m a killer. That’s all I know how to do. That’s all I can do.” “No… No, I don’t believe you, sir Crono. You’re lying.” “You’re wrong.” “Please!” Maria raised her voice for the first time against Silverius, and he jumped. “Please, stop lying. Stop lying to yourself, sir Crono. Please…” ‘Why did I tell her my name was Crono? Why did I let her know?’ He couldn’t say anything to her, not anymore, not as long as she called him Crono. She was the closest person to him now, and the only living person he had given permission to call him by his middle name. And she was right. Silverius didn’t say a word more to her. He peeled off his black jacket, now twice caked over with blood, and let himself into the cockpit of the miniature airship. The blond man was seated in the pilot’s chair and was still wearing his olive cloak, even though the inside of the ship was heated, the cockpit especially so. Despite the fact that he was fiddling with all kinds of buttons and displays as the airship cleared port authorities and started to ascend, the blond man glanced over his shoulder and nodded at Silverius’ presence. “I have a few questions for you, Scale,” Silverius said with disdain, his face tight with emotion. “First off, who the hell are you?” Judging by the relaxed posture of the observer, he didn’t think it would be dangerous to hold a conversation now – the blond likely had superhuman skill operating machinery, just as he had superhuman agility. ‘Not that this makes any sense, either.’ “We may have a few answers. First off, you may call us Cidolas Teftah. You are mistaken, though; we are not affiliated with Ouroboros.” Silverius’ face wrinkled in confusion. “Ouroboros? What the hell is that?” Cidolas glanced back to the mercenary with the same dead eyes, this time with a hint of disappointment. “The true name of the Serpent Society. We wore their colors simply because that would be the easiest way to get your attention.” “O…oh. I see. Next question, then. Why are you helping me? What do you want?” “We assist you because you have been chosen by the Crystal. You must live and the Crystal must stay out of Ouroboros’ hands; it is crucial for the world’s survival.” Again, Silverius found himself frowning in ignorance. “I don’t really care what the Society had planned for the jewel, but I wasn’t going to sit around and get shafted for a job well done. What do I care if it’s some important artifact that could fuck the world up? Now that I know it’s so important, I’ll just sell it and move on with my life. That’s what I came up here to find out about, anyway.” “No!” Cidolas spoke with hard power for the first time, and looked to Silverius with startling fire in his eyes. “We cannot let the Crystal leave the hands of its chosen hero. It must be guarded and taken care of correctly, or all of the world is in danger.” Silverius narrowed his eyes and looked down to the pilot with record levels of disdain. “You’re wrong. I’m not a hero.” The two stared each other down, the only sound in the air being the groaning of the airship’s engines and the unsupervised tapping of Cidolas’ fingers on the controls. “If the Crystal is so important,” the mercenary finally continued, “Why don’t you keep watch over it yourself?” “We are forbidden to hold the Crystal,” Cidolas said with finality and a turn back to the window showing the bright sky ahead. “So we must guard it. The Crystal is never wrong, and now that it has chosen its hero, we must make sure the right destiny occurs. We will ensure it with our lives.” Silverius looked down to the back of Cidolas’ head with a dark look and a frown pulled his mouth downwards. There was nothing else he’d be able to divine from the pilot, he figured, and there would be no changing his mind. ‘I see,’ he concluded. ‘Then I’ll just have to kill you next.’ ***** "We're here," Vik called from the doorway of the cabin. Hasey was sitting inside on Vik’s bed, sedentary. After almost six hours of sailing since he awoke, now Vik’s bought skiff was currently coming to a stop near the land of North Norzaven. The sun would be setting in give or take an hour, but the evening was still far off; this far north, the sun was quick to retreat beneath the horizon. The chill of Norzaven was already penetrating Vik's meager coat and scarf, and tiny snow particles coated the air under a slight breeze. His heavier coat had gone to Hasey, who himself had been found with a simple tank top and cargo pants. Nonchalantly, Hasey walked out of the cabin and up the stairs onto the deck, then towards the gangplank that led into the shallow and freezing waters of the North Norzaven coast. The captain of the ship sat on a stool on the top deck, watching his only two passengers prepare to leave the ship. “Dawn,” he reminded Vik. “No sooner and no later.” As he walked by the captain, Vik pursed his lips and nodded. “This shouldn’t take long. Thank you for your effort, captain.” The bald Nneonian smuggler also nodded and crossed his arms. “Be safe, Son of the Sun. These are not our lands.” He was right. Vik flipped him a dolarov coin and started down the gangplank. The waters leading to the snow-blanketed Norzavish shore were just as cold as one would have imagined. Even though the sea came to his shins and he was wearing knee-high boots, Vik instantly started to shiver and hug himself. On his back was his rifle, and on his waist was a pistol. They were high enough that they wouldn’t get wet, but Vik couldn’t help but wonder if they could jam in this extreme of a climate. ‘Hopefully I won’t have to use them.’ He met with Hasey a few feet onto the shore and past the limits of the tides. As expected, the youth didn’t show the slightest hint of being affected by the weather at all. He simply held his hands in the pockets of Vik’s long fur coat and stood with his eyes sternly focused to the mainland stretching before the two, miles and miles of endless snow and hills. “Well, here we are: the land of endless snow. This ringing any bells?” Vik violently shivered as he looked down to Hasey and his undulating midnight blue locks. The wind moved his hair about and blew snow into both of their faces, but did nothing to freeze the surprisingly hard look on the boy’s face. “There is a village near here, a few miles north. Cradle, I think it’s called,” the boy said after a moment of intense concentration. “Ah? So we are in the right place, then? You recognize this… er…?” Vik struggled to come up with a word to describe the North Norzaven landscape without insulting it. The only nouns that came to his mind were “wasteland” and “frozen hell”. Hasey nodded and started to walk, his sneakers leaving deep footprints in the snow-covered ground. “Slowly, yes. It’s like my memories are starting to trickle in. This is where I’m supposed to be going.” Vik followed the youth and kept his hands tightly pushed into the pockets of his coat. “Do you know anything about the mission you were on, then? What could you possibly been looking for all the way on Mount Gulg, if you come from here?” This had been the question plaguing Vik for the longest; he had never heard of any sort of large organization originating from North Norzaven, nor had he ever heard of anything worth retrieving in Mount Gulg. Nothing besides the Crystal, of course. There was no way this boy knew about such a thing, though, and no way he would have disclosed the fact that he was on a mission if he was really searching after so secretive and valuable an artifact. Hasey shook his head. “No, not yet. I’m remembering my companion more, though… She and I both grew up here. We were prepared to die going into this mission, but… I didn’t think she’d actually…” He sniffed and crossed his arms. “Sorry. I’m sure I’ll be able to say more once we get back to the village, and once I do, you’ll definitely be repaid for all your help. Then you can be on your way.” As good as that sounded for his goals, Vik couldn’t help but feel uncertainty within him at the sound of that. ‘Will this kid really be okay?’ As annoying and uncomfortable it had been to spend more than a week in close proximity with the mysterious youth, the Nneonian soldier couldn’t help but feel concern for his companion. ‘And even if he is… What is my next move going to be?’ He had successfully found the Crystal and left Nneoh, but… Now what? Countless solutions ran through Vik’s mind as he walked through the barren and unwelcoming lands of North Norzaven alongside Hasey Troblum. After almost an hour of walking, the two came upon a raised ridge overlooking a valley of land that was surrounded by high rising snowy hills, which themselves rose into cliffs and further plains of snow. They took a moment to stop on the ridge, and as Hasey looked forward to the valley below, Vik found himself looking around in silent and chilled wonder. The sun was in the process of setting by now, and the once icy blue sky was now alight with celestial fire. Vicious splashes of blue, red, and even violet purple cascaded across all of the northern sky, accented by the navy of oncoming darkness and the pure whiteness of the endlessly falling snow. The ridges and cliffs in the distance were partly constructed by ice, and these irregular translucent walls reflected and toyed with the bright colors of the sky. All around and all forward, the land acted as a heavenly canvas, and the colors of the sun the palette of the gods. Vik found himself in breathless awe, with his responsibilities, his left-behind family, his left-behind job, and his dubious future momentarily forgotten. Hasey interrupted his sublime moment peace with his words. “There, in the valley. The village of Cradle. That’s our destination.” Vik looked down towards the valley and noticed the village for the first time. It was a surprisingly modern settlement nestled in the tall, cozy hills of ice, worthy of its homely name. Although it was still some miles off, oddly the village looked… empty. No movement, no lights, and no people appeared to be moving in the village. It looked completely abandoned. “Are you sure? That’s where you’ve got to go?” The youth with hair like the night nodded, apparently unable to see the oddity of the settlement in front of him. “Positive.” He started to climb down the ridge leading to the valley without further ado. By the time the two arrived near the empty town, the sun had completely set and the black night had completely taken over the land’s canvas. Here in the north the sky was a complete darkness like none Vik had ever seen before, and he held his flashlight in front of the path of the two. It was absolutely clear that, just as he had noticed, Cradle was completely devoid of life. Now, in the dark and amongst the eerie falling snow, what was uncomfortable before had morphed into terrifying. “Listen,” Vik said with a furrowed brow and a shiver. “I really don’t think this is –” “Wait! Did you see that?!” Hasey looked to the side of Vik and pointed into the darkness. Alarmed, Vik pointed his flashlight towards the area that the youth had pointed out, and froze in fear. There, right in the spotlight of Vik’s flashlight and right beside a dilapidated sign naming the town of Cradle, stood a figure in an olive green cloak. Their hood was raised, obscuring their face in shadow, but a few locks of blonde hair were visible peeking out from the darkness, and it was clear that the figure was staring right at the two of them. Hasey instantly ran off towards the figure, and with this burst of movement, the cloaked figure turned and ran with equal speed towards the ridges of ice. “Hasey, wait!! What’s going on?!” Vik started to run after his companion, but he froze in place once again. A voice had just called to him from the empty town. Slowly, Vik turned and flashed his light into the dark and deserted streets of Cradle. Open doors, boarded windows, snow-covered cobblestone, and left-behind remnants of pseudo-rural life greeted him, but nothing living. Nothing that should be unnerving. Nothing that could speak. So where did that voice come from? Despite the appearance of the hooded stranger and Hasey’s pursuit of them, Vik felt himself drawn to investigate the strange voice calling to him from the empty city. Slowly he stepped forward, aware of how loud his boots crunched into the snow and permafrost on the ground, eyes searching every crevice and cavity of the town’s empty maw. Once he started he couldn’t resist, and soon Vik was completely immersed in the abandoned infrastructure of Cradle Village. Near the end of his search, the chilled soldier approached the house farthest back into the village. The cold was beginning to get to him; his fingertips were beginning to become numb, his nose was endlessly dripping mucus, and he was shivering uncontrollably, though that was likely a result of his terror. ‘Who was it that spoke? I know I heard a voice. I know I did. So where are they?!’ No matter where he looked, there was only one set of footprints in the snow coating every surface of Cradle Village… His own. He finished inspecting the dark windows and perimeter of Cradle’s last unchecked building. ‘Great. Finally, I can confirm that there really isn’t anyone here. It was probably just the wind. Now I’ve got to go find Hasey…’ With a huff, Vik shivered and began to walk back towards the town limits. At that very moment a sort of flare went off in Vik’s mind as he heard a tiny noise and the sound of movement. Years of military training kicked into gear as he dove to the ground away from the door and rolled forward to his feet. Just behind him, mere milliseconds later, the wooden door of the house exploded outward in a blast of noise and debris. From its previous position, a large blunt weapon and a black figure rushed forward in a beastly attack. The gargantuan black shadow landed on the snow with a crushing slide, and as Vik landed and rolled to look back behind him, he realized that he had just missed having his head crushed by the missed strike of a hammer. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and warmed his blood as he immediately stood up and rocketed his rifle into his hands, wasting no time in aiming at the figure and moving his finger over the trigger. He was ready to shoot at the figure that had been torturing him for the better part of an hour now, but against his control, Vik’s body froze in place. With eyes as cold as the land around him, Vik looked up to the tall black shadow in front of him, and he shivered – this time out of fear. Here ahead of him was a figure from a nightmare he would never forget. The murderer of his comrades stood up to his full height, his obsidian armor shimmering with the same unearthly darkness it held the last time Vik saw him in the darkness of the warehouse all those days ago. This was no nightmare and no trick of the wind. This was real. The man in front of him was completely real. “It can’t be,” Vik said as he stepped backwards. “It can’t be you. Impossible… How did you find me? How…?” He faltered and fell on his butt in the snow, and could only look up to the amazingly tall and bulky man in front of him. For the first time, Vik got a close look at the black shadow. He was tall, easily a head taller than Vik himself, and more muscular. His body was easily visible through the contours of his antiquated black armor, and his weapons seemed to glisten in the darkness. The only part of the shadow that didn’t seem to lovingly meld with the darkness was his uncovered face; it was chiseled, strong, and almost covered by a blond mane and a somewhat darker beard. Cold, amused gray eyes looked down at Vik with playfulness, not unlike those of a cat looking down at a trapped mouse. “Long time no see, son,” the shadow said. “What sort of business do you have here?” It took everything in Vik’s body not to freeze in place, and all of his mental fortitude went into forcing his body to move. “You… It’s you…! You killed them… You killed my friends!” The blond man gave a lopsided smile and looked down at Vik with carefree slate eyes. “Was that me? I’ve forgotten. It must have been very dull.” “You bastard…!” Vik pushed himself off the ground just enough to hop backwards and gingerly pull his pistol from his waist. He held the weapon with a shaking hand, the other gripping the flashlight with equal instability. Slowly but surely, Vik rose the pistol until he was aiming it right to the smiling blond man’s face. The blond beast looked Vik right in his eyes and smiled a devilishly charming grin. “Go on, then. Shoot.” ‘Shoot. Shoot him, now!’ Every voice Vik had ever heard screamed that same command in his head, over and over again. The voice of the enemy in front of him. The voice of his father. His own voice. The voice of his comrades, ready to accept justice and righteousness. It would all be so simple… just one shot. One pull of the trigger. ‘Why can’t I do it?’ No matter how much he wanted to kill the man in front of him, Vik was unable to move. Whether by fear or trepidation, his entire body felt frozen; only cold sweat dripped down his forehead and the rest of his body. He looked the shadow knight in the eye and couldn’t help but quiver. “Hmhmhm… Hahaha! This is rich!” Now that it was clear Vik wouldn’t be shooting him, the knight’s smile faded, yet his eyes retained the same amused condescencion. “Disappointing. You’re still too weak. Not like it would have mattered anyway... Even if you had the courage to shoot, you’d never have hit me with a bullet.” Vik looked at the shadow with more ignorance than fear. “What? What are you talking about…? Who are you?! Why are you following me?!” As the knight tilted back his neck and held his gigantic hammer on his shoulder, he let out a laugh and shook his head. “You’ve come so far, and yet you’ve only taken a single step. Don’t you know why I’m following you? Don’t you remember being chosen by that Crystal you’ve got in your little man purse?” Vik froze. “I’m not letting you have the Crystal.” “Hahaha! If I wanted that, you’d be dead already. We have other things planned. More fun ways to take what’s ours.” “No.” Despite the fact that he was completely frozen in place by the overwhelming power and fear this man held over his heart, Vik shook his head and gave a hard frown. “You won’t. You’re not that strong, or that secret. Someone is going to stop you all. I’m going to stop you.” “Haha… After all this, you still have the audacity to be cocky.” The knight narrowed his eyes and his smile melted off his face. “Seeing you in such a contradictory state… It’s almost too much for me to handle. I’m at my limit… I can’t hold it in anymore! Why don’t I show you the exact difference in power between you and I, first cycle?” He made frigid eye contact with Vik and lowered his weapons, allowing his body to stand in a stance that seemed at once organic, powerful, and vulnerable. There, as clear as day, Vik watched the shadow’s eyes change from natural stone gray to a glowing, magical golden. Neither of the two blinked; the change had occurred instantly, without any tricks involved. The knight’s eyes had simply… switched coloration. Before he could even begin to understand what he had seen, Vik’s mind screamed with natural alarms. The knight vanished at the same speed his eyes had changed colors, and Vik just barely saw him appear next to him, both weapons swinging right at Vik. No, appearing was incorrect; there were footprints trailing behind him. Rather, it was clear that the man in the black armor had simply moved faster than Vik could have traced, his glowing golden eyes leaving behind trails of light like the headlights from a speeding car. And just like a speeding truck headed for an ignorant bystander, the knight’s sledgehammer and knife-sharp axe were headed right for Vik’s body. Instinct was the only thing that kept Vik alive. His body began to move faster than his mind could follow. The hammer would reach him first, and likely deal the most damage to his head, so by pure reflex Vik raised the hand holding the flashlight and held it in the path of the attack. Not a moment later the sledgehammer connected with his hand, with enough force that Vik instantly knew his hand was crushed beyond repair. The bones in his hand were audibly smashed to pieces, his fingers twisted and bent backwards from the force, and even the flashlight broke apart, its light immediately vanishing – but the momentum behind his block was enough to send the knight’s hammer recoiling backwards from its hit. That just left the large axe aiming right to his face with a clear path and nothing to obscure it. There was not enough time to move his other hand in the way, let alone shoot the gun he held; avoiding the attack in such close range was out of the question. Time seemed to slow as Vik saw the blade, glistening from absent light, rocketing right towards him. If it hit, he would be decapitated, or worse… No matter what, it would mean certain death. He couldn’t decide on an action to take, but Vik’s body moved for him, entirely on instinct. Vik kicked his feet into the air as if he had slipped on the snow, with the combined effect of kicking away the shadow knight and jerking his head downwards out of the trajectory of the attack. It was a perfect escape that only could have been executed by a soldier or similar person trained to act in split-seconds. Even then, he was too slow. The shadow knight had seen his actions and moved even faster than Vik could have. He grinned as he stood his ground, feet planted hard into the snow, with a strong enough stance that Vik’s kick barely jostled him. The blade kept swinging, and although Vik had moved, he was not entirely out of the attack’s way. All of this had taken place in less than a second, and the fight was already over. The attack hit Vik like a bear running right into him, and he went spiraling into the snow with a cry of pain. The dodge had saved him from being decapitated but it was still deep enough to draw blood in one clean strike from his left cheekbone all the way up to his forehead. The gash ran blood onto the snow, Vik’s clothes, and all in his eye, blinding him and sending a scream gasping from his mouth. His head was ringing and threatening to explode open with pain, and his left hand was almost numb from its catastrophic injuries, but as Vik landed in a drift of snow, he realized that he was somehow alive. And after achieving this after a split-second meeting with certain death, Vik’s body and instincts had only one more path for him to take. ‘Run.’ As soon as he landed, Vik scrambled up from the ground and ran towards the village limits. He dropped the pistol in his landing, using his now free hand to cradle the crippled one against his chest. He didn’t look back, not even once, only ran. He had never run so fast in his life, nor so carelessly. His left eye felt permanently caked shut by blood and his right one was clenched tightly by fear. No matter what, Vik knew he could never turn or go back to the village of Cradle. ‘That man… That shadow... That knight…’ No matter how he looked at it, Vik couldn’t dispute the fact that he had seen this man before, not even two weeks ago, when he slaughtered his elite comrades without a scratch within a minute. And this very man had eyes that could turn an unnatural golden, and he had the speed to move faster than the naked eye could follow. This man… No matter what, Vik and his instincts knew that he could never face that man and hope for anything besides death. ‘That is a man I absolutely can’t beat. How could I have been so foolish? So self-confident? That kind of power is just something I could never hope to surpass. I have to run… I have to!’ Adrenaline pumped heavily through his veins, and mixed with the shock he was undoubtedly going through after his horrible injuries, Vik was able to run for what felt like hours. After a while he forced his right eye open, just wide enough to see where he was going, and Vik realized that he could see the shore in the horizon. Beyond it, the bobbing ship, the Rocky Bay. His salvation, and his ticket out of North Norzaven. Hell, he’d swim back to Nneoh if he had to. Only when he was close enough to shore that the captain could see him running did Vik suddenly stop and force his eyes open. His heart dropped in his chest when he realized just how far his fear had driven him to go, and what a grave mistake he had made. “Hasey…!” ...End of Part Eight. <- Previous Page | Main Page | Next Page; Rescue Arc ->